Bound by the Saracen in captiue bands,
And often blushing at the late surprise
Of those milke-hony-flowing holy lands,
Now made the spoile of Pagan’s conquering hands,
Hence did we march with heau’ns great king for guide
Into the east, to beate downe Pagan’s pride.
43.
Inglorious age, made drunke with dregs of peace,
Heere iustly may I taxe thy peacefull time,
Heere must our muse’s warlike song surcease,